


find us side by side

by daydoodles



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: (It's implied that they'll get there though), Also the Pimms is in the past, BPD Kent if you squint, Character Undeath, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Relationship(s), Pre-Slash, Survivor Guilt, Weapons, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 18:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12710070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydoodles/pseuds/daydoodles
Summary: This world is gonna burn; as long as we're going down, baby you should stick around.





	find us side by side

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a commission for the lovely [Carolyn](http://therealsassyclh.tumblr.com), who basically let me do whatever I wanted with Bittyparse. So naturally I did a zombie AU, because this fandom needs more zombie AU's.
> 
> A little disclaimer: I don't know anything about survival skills, and everything I know about Springfield, Massachusetts I got off of Google. Sorry for any inaccuracies!
> 
> And of course the title and description are from [a song](https://youtu.be/SkY6yQuzdl8) because what do y'all expect from me.

The first thing Kent hears when he wakes up is a pair of feet shuffling in the grass.

 

The second thing he hears, as he’s reaching for the nearest weapon - which happens to be an old baseball bat with nails run through it - is another pair of feet moving at a much faster pace and very much in his direction. It’s still dark, but he can hear how fast they’re approaching, so they must still be alive. Then again, that really doesn’t mean much anymore. Trust in humanity kind of goes out the door once people start eating each other’s faces off, and all that.

 

Kent stands up and plants his feet, the kind of wide awake that only the immediate threat of death can incite. He raises the baseball bat, stays perfectly still, and hopes his eyes adjust to the darkness before he actually has to fight anyone. Or anything.

 

A sharp “Get down!” as he’s being toppled over and landed on top of is not what Kent was expecting at all, and he really doesn’t know what to do with this sudden development. His arms and legs go flailing as he lands in the dirt, and some blond kid is suddenly kneeling next to him and reloading a rifle. It’s disorienting, to say the least, but Kent just sits back and watches. Whatever’s going on, he doesn’t really think he wants to get in the middle of it.

 

It doesn’t take long for him to confirm that suspicion, because the Corpse he heard not thirty seconds ago is now in sight, and the kid next to him is firing a single shot that hits it dead in the center of its forehead. The Corpse crumples to the ground, but Kent and the kid stay frozen for what feels like a lifetime just to make sure it doesn’t get back up. Those things are surprisingly fast when you piss them off; movies lied to everyone. Which, now that Kent thinks about it, is probably part of the reason a lot of people died initially, since back in the beginning, the media was the only point of reference they had.

 

His train of thought is interrupted when the guy, who he sees now that he’s got a better look at him is decidedly _not_ a kid, he just has one of those faces that could either belong to a teenager or an adult in their mid-twenties, stands up and walks toward the Corpse. And like, Kent’s been impressed with the dude’s badassery up till this point, but you have to draw the line somewhere. There’s a difference between being brave and being stupid.

 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Kent blurts, because he’s never been great with words and even the apocalypse can’t change that, apparently.

 

The guy looks back at him, blinks a couple times like he’s confused by the fact Kent would ask that. “I’m just checkin’ if it’s anybody I knew. I didn’t get a good look earlier.”

 

Kent doesn’t exactly know what to do with that information, or with that southern accent, holy shit it is _strong_. “Excuse me, what?” is all he has to say to all of that, really.

 

“You’re excused,” the guy says as he pokes the Corpse with the butt of his gun.

 

Kent finally stands up, grabs his backpack and weapons, and walks over to where the guy is standing over the body. “Dude, who cares if you knew it when it was still alive? It’s sure as fuck not now. And trust me, you’re better off not knowing.”

 

“I beg to differ.”

 

“Well you can beg all you want, but there’s nobody to listen to it. God died a long time ago, my man. If he was ever alive to begin with.”

 

“Look, mister.” The guy turns to Kent, throws the rifle over one shoulder and the other hand on his hip, and glares. “I don’t know who you are, but we all got our own ways of dealin’ with this shit, so mind your damn business.”

 

Kent shrugs. “Whatever, dude. But if this sick hobby of yours backfires, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He turns on his heel and walks in the vague direction of what he thinks is west.

 

“Where you goin’?”

 

Kent looks over his shoulder, but doesn’t stop. “Vegas.”

 

“What for?” The guy’s following him now, which is weird, but also not a bad idea. Everybody knows that being alone in the zombie apocalypse is basically a death wish, and Kent’s been on his own for way too long. Maybe this guy has, too.

 

“I had some friends there. I doubt they’re still hanging around, or if they are they probably aren’t alive; and even if they _are_ alive I probably won’t be able to find them. But it gives me something to work toward, I guess. Better than just...wandering aimlessly while everything goes to hell.” He moves a branch out of the way, holds it so the dude can walk by.

 

“Well, you’re not wrong on that one. I haven’t been doin’ much of anything lately, since - since I don’t have anywhere to go.” Kent notices the hesitation, but doesn’t pry. He doesn’t want to get to know this guy any better than he has to.

 

“I mean, you can come with if you wanna. I could use some company. You’re alone, yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You know that’s pretty much suicide.”

 

The guy laughs at that. “You’re one to talk. Didn’t even notice the Corpse wanderin’ round your campsite. You woulda been dead by now if I hadn’t shown up.” He furrows his brow. “Or undead, or whatever.”

 

Kent cuts him a look. “I can handle myself, thanks. I made it this long without your help.”

 

“Well same,” the guy says pettily.

 

Kent stops in his tracks and moves in front of the guy so he has to stop, too. “Look, man, you can come with me or you can keep doing whatever the fuck you’ve been doing so far. I don’t really care either way, but you gotta pick one. You can’t stick around then leave me whenever you feel like it.”

 

The guy tilts his head like a confused puppy and Kent kind of wants to punch himself for thinking it’s endearing. “Is that what happened to you?”

 

Kent rolls his eyes. “No, but I had trust issues before the whole apocalypse thing went down. I’m sure you can imagine zombies didn’t exactly help.”

 

The guy shrugs. “You got a point.”

 

“Yeah, I always have a point. So what’s your answer?” Kent crosses his arms against his chest and waits.

 

The guy looks indecisive, and sort of like he’s having war flashbacks, but given the circumstances he probably is. Kent would be, but he won’t let himself. He hooks a thumb into the pocket of his jeans instead, running it across the picture there. It calms him down, if only a little.

 

“Fine. I’ll go with you to Vegas. No guarantee I’m gonna stay with you after that, though, y’hear?”

 

“Loud and clear, man.”

 

“Good. Now what’s your name? I’m Eric, but you can call me Bitty. Everybody does - did.” He sticks out a hand like people still care about handshakes, so Kent takes it.

 

“Kent. You can call me Kent.”

 

Bitty huffs an annoyed sigh, but doesn’t react other than that. “Okay, Kent, what’s the plan?”

 

Kent eyes Bitty’s backpack and rifle. “First we should probably do inventory. Show me what you have and I’ll do the same, just so we know where we’re at with supplies.”

 

Bitty nods, takes his backpack off and dumps it on the forest floor. Most of it is just bullets, and Kent doesn’t know much about survival but he knows you need more than bullets to survive the apocalypse. Like food. And water. And basic first aid.

 

“What the fuck, dude?” Kent says, and Bitty looks offended.

 

“What? I gotta have bullets or this gun ain’t good for shit.” He waves it at Kent for emphasis.

 

“And you gotta have food and water or your body’s not good for shit,” Kent counters.

 

“I have a pack of Oreos and a Coke.”

 

“You need protein, dumbass. Coke isn’t gonna keep you going.”

 

“Well fine then. What do you have in your bag, Kenneth?”

 

“It’s Kent.” He empties his bag next to Bitty’s, separating everything so he can properly show off how well prepared he is. He points at each thing as he lists it. “Food, water, first aid, weapons.”

 

“Beef jerky ain’t food and a pack of bandaids an’ some neosporin doesn’t make a first aid kit.”

 

Kent smirks. “It’s more than you have though, isn’t it?”

 

Bitty rolls his eyes and moves to take a closer look at Kent’s arsenal. “Why do you need all this shit?” He gestures vaguely to all of Kent’s weapons.

 

“To stay alive. Why is that even a question?”  


“Okay I got that, but why the fuck do you need _seven_ different weapons?”

 

Kent grins. “The baseball bat’s for bashing in heads, the knives are for stabbing eye sockets and other soft parts when I can reach them, the broken hockey stick makes a great spear, and the sledgehammer is just good for anything, to be honest. Breaking into buildings, breaking bones, whatever.”

 

“You coulda just gotten a damn gun.”

 

“Yeah, but then I would have to carry a fuckton of ammunition and I wouldn’t have any room for food.”

 

“Hey, don’t gimme that. I didn’t know if Corpse blood was contagious, and I wanted to be as far away from them as possible.”

 

“I got over that dilemma quick, I guess.”

 

Bitty cocks his head again, but doesn’t ask for more information. “Plus, I’m a Georgia boy born and raised. I know my way round a gun.”

 

“You are a good shot, I’ll give you that. But if you’re from Georgia, what the fuck are you doing way up here?”

 

Bitty looks down sadly, fumbles with the torn up hem of his sweatshirt. “I was in college when it started.”

 

“And you’re not going back to find your family?”

 

“No. I don’t have family down there anymore.”

 

That sounds heavy, like it’s not at all Kent’s business, so he drops it. “Well, I think we should probably get moving. Staying anywhere for too long stresses me out, plus we’re gonna need some more food and shit.”

 

Bitty agrees, so they gather their supplies and stuff it all back into their bags unceremoniously. Kent leaves out his hockey stick and sledgehammer (plus the knife that stays strapped to his thigh) so he’ll be more or less ready if anything comes up suddenly, and Bitty just puts a spare box of bullets in his pocket and tosses the gun over his shoulder. Kent sticks the makeshift spear across his back, held in place by his backpack, and gestures with the hammer to let Bitty know they’re moving. Bitty complies, falling into step beside Kent, watching the right and front as Kent covers the left and back. They work weirdly well together, moving in tandem and watching each other’s backs. Then again, everyone works well together when there’s nothing trying to kill them. Kent wonders how long it will last.

 

They both acknowledge the need for shelter, and rest; Kent had only been asleep about an hour before Bitty woke him, and Bitty seems just as worn out as he is. Kent usually tries to avoid cities as much as possible, since the chances of seeing a Corpse are much higher there than in less populated areas, but the fact is they just don’t have enough food and water to make it very far. They have no choice but to venture into the nearest town and see what they can find. Maybe they’ll get lucky, and find a safe place to stay the night, too.

 

Bitty knows the area better than Kent does, since they aren’t too far from what used to be his college campus, so he leads the way, Kent following obediently behind. They don’t talk, since noise attracts Corpses, and also because even the most casual conversation has the tendency to turn dark fast in the apocalypse. Kent’s fine with it; the less he knows about Bitty, the better. Getting attached makes you vulnerable.

 

They make it to some place called Springfield, and Kent doesn’t really have a clue where they are, since he’s been walking blind since he went out on his own. Bitty tells him they’re in Massachusetts, which makes sense, because that’s not too far off from where Kent started. He’d been hoping he’d made more progress than that, but at least he’s in a new state. He’s moving slowly, but he’s headed in the right direction.

 

Springfield isn’t a big city by any means, but thankfully they manage to find a mall without much incident. The doors are already shattered, probably from raids after the initial outbreak, so it’s not hard to get inside. Unfortunately that means that it’s also easy for Corpses to get in, so they need to be on high alert. Kent finds the nearest directory, and they head for the food court.

 

They pass a vending machine along the way, which Kent bashes with the sledgehammer till they’re able to pry some drinks out of it. There’s only one water bottle, but they also grab a few sodas, so it’s better than nothing. They pass a shoe store, so Bitty trades his beat up old Sperrys in for some combat boots, and Kent finds a sturdy pair of hiking boots to replace his designer sneakers. There’s a clothing store right next to it, so they stop by and grab some sweatshirts and jackets since it’s getting colder. They can’t find much of anything else in the way of winter wear, but they find some beanies that they can make do with.

 

When they finally reach the food court, it’s pretty obvious people have already taken most of the good stuff. Kent’s learned that you’d be surprised what people leave behind in the mad scramble for the most valuable stuff, though, so they split up and each check one half of the food court. Bitty finds some chips and frozen hamburger meat, but all Kent manages to scrounge up are a bunch of uncooked noodles. It’s not the best luck Kent’s ever had, but he’s certainly had worse. They’ll have to eat the meat soon, but at least that’ll give them some protein so they won’t totally lose their minds when all they’ve got to eat is plain pasta and stale chips.

 

They eat a bag of chips each just to tide themselves over, and then walk back through the mall to find somewhere to stay the night. Amazingly, they haven’t seen much Corpse activity, just a few passing by the windows every now and then. If they stay hidden and elevated, they should be fine for a night.

 

Kent leads the way up the escalator, which looks shoddy at best and downright treacherous at worst, but they make it to the top without any horrible accidents. They walk to the end of the hall where there’s a department store, which blessedly has a bedding section, and shove a couple of the tiny fake beds together to make an approximation of an actual bed. It’s hard and slightly uncomfortable, but after tossing a few extra layers of bedding onto it, it’s nearly perfect. Definitely the best thing Kent’s slept on in a long time, and he’d be willing to bet money the same goes for Bitty. If money still had any value, anyway.

 

They decide to sleep in shifts, and since Bitty’s gone the longest without sleep, he gets to go first. The amount of sleep they should get before moving on is debatable, but they settle on two, three hour shifts each. They’re both a little uneasy staying in such an urban place for too long, but this way they’ll at least be well rested enough to get moving in the morning.

 

Nothing much happens during Kent’s shift. They’d been right to assume that staying up and away from windows would keep them relatively off the Corpses’ radar; after all, the undead aren’t exactly known for their intelligence. There’s a bit of a scuffle downstairs, but when Kent goes to check it out it turns out to just be a couple of Corpses fighting over a decomposing body. They don’t notice him since they’re too distracted by each other and the meat they’re currently trying to devour, so Kent just goes back to the makeshift bed and hopes they don’t suddenly get the urge to go upstairs. They don’t, and he doesn’t hear from them again.

 

After three hours according to his watch, which admittedly doesn’t run as well as it used to, Kent wakes Bitty and tells him it’s time to switch. Bitty already looks a lot better, a lot more refreshed, and Kent wonders just how long it’s been since he got proper sleep. It’s hard to relax, even in sleep, when you’re fending for yourself during what some have called the end of the world. (Kent doesn’t know if he agrees with that assessment, but it’s definitely sparked the end of the world as he knew it. In the end, that’s all that really matters anyway.)

 

Kent makes himself comfortable, and Bitty starts cleaning his gun. It’s been a long time since he’s had a chance, because he was too afraid to be left unarmed when he was alone; but now that he’s got Kent’s arsenal at his disposal, too, he isn’t that worried about it. He takes his time, since it’s been ages and he doesn’t have anything else to do, and an hour passes before he realises it.

 

Kent stirs, inhales a sharp breath, startling Bitty away from his task. Kent looks distressed even in sleep, brows furrowed and mouth a thin line, but Bitty isn’t sure he should wake him. Everybody has nightmares, now, and there really isn’t much to be done about it. Bitty goes back to his gun, which he’s pretty much done with at this point, just cleaning the outside a bit, and then Kent is awake and screaming.

 

He shoots upright in the bed, tears already making their way down his cheeks in miniature rivers. He fumbles beneath the sheets to find his pocket, pulling what looks like a small piece of paper out and running his thumb over it. He’s breathing heavy, and when Bitty sits down by his side he can actually hear Kent’s heart beating.

 

“You alright, honey?” is really all Bitty can say. Kent nods, but it’s not convincing. Bitty doesn’t know if Kent can speak at the moment, so he just whispers a soft, “I’m gonna touch you, okay? Just a pat on the back.” When Kent nods again, Bitty rubs soothing circles in between his shoulder blades.

 

After what could be three minutes or three hours, Bitty has no idea, Kent calms himself down enough to breathe again. He’s stopped fidgeting with the thing in his hand, so Bitty can finally get a good look at it; it’s a photograph. The middle is a bit faded and worn, like Kent’s been rubbing his thumb across it for months, which he probably has. But underneath that is a picture of a beautiful boy with jet black hair and the prettiest blue eyes Bitty’s ever seen in his life.

 

“Who’s that?” he asks. Kent doesn’t answer right away, and Bitty fears he’s overstepped. “You don’t have to tell me anything, darlin’, but sometimes it’s good to have someone to talk to.”

 

Kent’s pupils are dilated so much the green of his eyes is only a sliver, and his breath is still shaky, but he looks Bitty in the eye when he speaks. “He was the love of my life. I killed him.”

 

Bitty wasn’t prepared for that to be the thing to come out of Kent’s mouth, so he doesn’t know how to respond. “What happened?” is all he can think to say.

 

Kent looks sadder then, almost nostalgic. “I was visiting him in Providence when all this shit went down. We stayed holed up in his apartment as long as we could, but eventually we ran out of food and water, and had to go out to find more. Tried to make it up to Canada to see his parents, but we didn’t last more than two days before he got bitten. I didn’t notice at first, since I was too busy killing the Corpse that bit him, but by the time I was done Jack was already trying to bite my fucking head off. I had to do it, or he would’ve turned me, I know that. But that doesn’t change what I did.” The tears are back now, and Kent lets out a broken sob.

 

Bitty puts a hand on Kent’s shoulder and pulls him close in an attempt to be comforting. “I know you think you killed him, but what you killed...that wasn’t him anymore, Kent. Not really.”

 

Kent turns on him, suddenly angry. “Don’t give me that bullshit. Yeah he wasn’t the Jack I knew, and he would’ve hurt me, or worse, if I hadn’t defended myself, but he was still in there. He was just sick. He didn’t deserve to die for something he couldn’t control.”

 

Bitty pulls back, folds his hands in his lap to hide the shaking. “I used to think so, too.”

 

“What do you know? You’re the one who checks Corpses to see if you knew them! I told you that shit’s a bad idea. Look how I turned out.” Kent’s whole body is still shaky, twitching weirdly from the stress.

 

Bitty cocks his head, studies Kent’s face. Kent just stares back. “Like I said, I used to agree with you. I told myself that all these Corpses were people, and god dammit we can’t just all run round blowin’ each other’s heads off. You wanna know what changed my mind?”

 

Kent frowns. “I honestly don’t know if I do.”

 

“Well I’m gonna tell you anyway, so listen up, mister. When all this started and the world went to hell, I was in a frat house full of stupid ass college boys. We didn’t even have time to come up with a plan before one of us got bitten by a LAX bro from across the street, and I just grabbed the guy next to me and hauled ass outta there. It ended up being my friend Dex, who’s smarter than he’ll ever know, and skilled with any kinda tool, so I thought I was lucky, because even if I didn’t know what I was doing, Dex probably did.”

 

“Did he?”

 

“Well yeah, for the most part. Nobody’s prepared for a fucking zombie outbreak, obviously, but Dex was resourceful and level headed for most of it, except when he got mad. But we’re all mad at the apocalypse, so I don’t blame him, y’know? We got some weapons, a few supplies, and we were gonna make our way to Maine to see Dex’s family. But he got bitten. I saw it happen, watched the whole damn thing, even killed the Corpse that turned him. But I couldn’t bring myself to shoot him. Not Dex. You wanna know what I did instead?”

 

Kent grimaces. “I guess.”

 

A tear slips down Bitty’s cheek, and he wipes it away with an unsteady hand. “I left. I turned and ran, just like I did back at the Haus, just like I’ve been doin’ ever since. And all I heard as I was running was Dex yellin’ for me to put him out of his misery. I couldn’t bear the thought of hurting him, but in the end what I did hurt him more than shootin’ him would’ve. I let him suffer, and that’s what nobody deserves. At least you didn’t do that to your Jack.”

 

There’s no good response to that, and Kent sucks at talking about anything serious under the best circumstances, which this definitely is not. So he just wraps his arms around Bitty and stays there; they sit like that for what feels like a lifetime, just crying on each other’s shoulders, grieving like the apocalypse rarely lets anyone.

 

Unfortunately, in the apocalypse, even closure is short-lived. There’s a crash as a Corpse runs into a display shelf not ten yards away from the bed they’re still sitting on, so Kent and Bitty have to snap out of it and act fast. Kent grabs his sledgehammer, which is the closest weapon to him, and Bitty takes the safety off his rifle as he scrambles to his feet. Kent doesn’t waste a moment, just tosses a “Cover me,” over his shoulder as he runs at the Corpse.

 

One well-placed blow to the forehead does the trick, but from where he’s standing Kent can now see a group of about ten Corpses making their way in his direction. Bitty and Kent may be good, but two against ten are odds that Kent would much rather not bet his life on.

 

“Bits, we need to move!” he yells, and Bitty grabs the backpacks immediately, tossing Kent’s to him. It hits his chest with a thump, and then they’re out of the department store before Kent even puts it on.

 

“What’s wrong?” Bitty asks as they run toward the escalator.

 

“Ten Corpses coming up behind us. They saw me kill the first one, pissed them off.”

 

That’s all the explanation Bitty needs. He nods, taking the escalator two steps at a time. The sound of twenty feet hitting the tile floor is approaching much quicker than Kent would like, but he knows if they kill another Corpse it’ll only make the others more angry, and the last thing they need is to rile them up more than they already are. It’s hard to fight a Corpse, but it’s nearly impossible to fight a Corpse that’s mad you just killed its friend. Well, not impossible to fight, but pretty much impossible to beat. And ten of them is essentially a death wish.

 

Bitty leads the way out of the mall, going the same way they entered, and thankfully there doesn’t seem to be any more Corpses waiting for them outside. Their best bet is elevation, since Corpses may be fast when they’re pissed off, but that doesn’t make them any better at climbing, so Kent points to a building across the street that’s got an awning. It looks like it used to be a cafe of some sort, with tables strewn about the pavement.

 

Kent grabs a table, stands it upright, and motions for Bitty to get on. He complies, and Kent lifts him up as much as he can while Bitty pulls himself onto the awning and grabs hold of a wire to keep himself steady. Thankfully the awning is metal, so it’ll hold the both of them, and Kent tosses his hammer up to Bitty before jumping to pull himself up to sit beside him. Once he’s up (with a little help from Bitty), he uses his hockey stick to knock the table back onto its side; he doubts the Corpses would be able to figure out how to get onto the awning either way, but better safe than sorry.

 

As expected, the Corpses are at a loss once they see how high up Kent and Bitty are. They mill around restlessly, alternating between growling and a haunting screaming sound that Kent’s come to realise means they’re hungry. Eventually they get distracted by god knows what, and stomp off into the distance to find their next prey. Kent lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, and Bitty huffs a sigh of relief. They wait a few minutes just to be sure, then slide stiffly off the balcony back onto the concrete.

 

“We should get out of here,” Kent says, and Bitty notices he’s running his thumb across his pocket again.

 

“Good call,” is all he says, and they pick a direction they think is west based on the position of the sun, and start walking.

 

After about an hour, they make it to the edge of some more woods. Kent breathes a sigh of relief, and Bitty’s shoulders visibly relax. There’s nowhere that’s completely safe anymore, but the woods are their best bet right now, at least until they run out of food. And even then, Bitty could probably hunt down something for them to eat. He says as much, makes a smug remark about the advantages of a hunting rifle over a simple hammer, and Kent argues that he could kill an animal with it if he wanted to, but Bitty knows he’d never even get close enough to try.

 

They talk off and on as they make their way deeper into the woods, and Kent finds it’s a lot easier now that they know each other’s darkest secret. Like, once you get that shit out of the way there’s not much to avoid in conversation. Plus Bitty’s easy to talk to, which is probably a southern hospitality thing. Even though southern hospitality itself isn’t really a thing anymore. Old habits die hard.

 

They find a place to rest, eventually, and set up the closest thing to a campsite they can. They had the foresight to pack a couple blankets from the department store before they started lookout shifts, so at least they won’t freeze to death out here. They get a small fire going thanks to a bag of Doritos Bitty’d swiped from the mall, and Kent’s lighter, and it’s about as ideal as it could be considering the circumstances. They split Kent’s last bag of beef jerky and watch the fire burn.

 

“Hey, Kent?” Bitty says some time later, from his blanket cocoon to Kent’s left.

 

“Yeah, Bits?”

 

“Why d’ya keep that picture of Jack? Doesn’t it make it harder?” His eyes are wide, like he’s concerned. Kent’s not used to anyone worrying about him, it’s been so long. He almost feels bad.

 

“I, uhm. I dream about him. What he looked like when he turned, with those milky eyes and blank expression and complete loss of autonomy. And also what he looked like when I killed him, all beat up and bloody and crushed. I don’t wanna remember him like that. I wanna remember the Jack I loved, when he was still alive and had all the hope in the world it would all work out okay in the end.” He looks down at Bitty, wonders if he understands.

 

Bitty puts a gentle hand on Kent’s arm. “It still could, y’know. Work out, I mean. Jack’s gone, but that wasn’t the end. You’re still here, and as long as you are there’s still hope.”

 

Kent grabs Bitty’s hand, uses it to anchor himself. “It’s easy to say that. Harder to believe it.”

 

Bitty squeezes his hand. “I know, honey, but it’s the truth. As long as you’re out here, you gotta keep fightin’ for your happy ending.”

 

“There’s no such thing as a happy ending in the apocalypse.”

 

Bitty puts his free hand on his hip. “Now how would you know that? Have you been through the apocalypse before?”

 

“No, but I’m in it now.”

 

“Exactly, you’re still goin’ strong and so am I. We’re gonna kick the apocalypse’s ass, you and me.” He smiles reassuringly. “If we can make it through this, we can make it through anything.”

  
For once, Kent actually believes it.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact, that picture was in Kent's wallet before the whole zombie thing happened. He didn't feel the need to carry around the wallet itself since money is useless once society falls apart, but he kept the picture because of the sentimental value. He's a sap, even if at the time he didn't know how important it would be to him. :))) 
> 
> Also, if you're wondering, it was Holster who got bitten by a LAX bro.
> 
> Maybe I'll write a prequel or something and get into that stuff more....


End file.
